


You've Been Deprived, Haven't You My Dear?

by Bedalk05



Series: Geralt Deserves Soft Things [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Caring Jaskier | Dandelion, Creature Jaskier | Dandelion, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Episode Fix-It: s01e06 Rare Species, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Getting Together, Give Geralt Fluffy Things, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, Light Angst, M/M, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Touch-Starved Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:27:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23953807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bedalk05/pseuds/Bedalk05
Summary: The thing is, Witchers aren’tsupposedto be affectionate. Geralt, in his own particular way, undoubtedly is however. Unfortunately, the Witcher is truly inept when it comes to handling affection and processing emotion. All of this is to say that Jaskier could have predicted this. “This” being Geralt standing helplessly as he holds a cat currently purring in his arms.Geralt deserves to touch something soft
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Geralt Deserves Soft Things [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1742950
Comments: 203
Kudos: 2203
Collections: Geralt is Sorry, Good Relationship Etiquette (familial included) - or Good BDSM Etiquette - or Good Relationship and BDSM Etiquette, Just.... So cute..., Soft Witcher Fics for Bad Days





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SleepingReader](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepingReader/gifts).



> This fic is dedicated to SleepingReader who wrote this lovely little poem after reading my fic "Don't Touch Me, I'll Shatter:"
> 
> Let me follow besides, I beg of ye  
> There's no where else I'd rather be  
> Let me ease those lines off your scowl  
> And even if you snap and growl  
> I'll touch you, unforced, I volunteer  
> You've been deprived, haven't you my dear?

Witchers aren’t affectionate. Why would they be? They are raised with swords and pain, not hugs and love. Witchers don’t like animals. Why should they? Their horses are for practical use and all other animals are only good for food. 

Geralt is different though, Jaskier has observed. First off, Roach, and all of the previous Roaches clearly hold a special place in Geralt’s heart. Jaskier wouldn’t dare vocalize that though unless he was hoping for a punch in the gut so Geralt can prove how unaffectionate he really is. 

But see, that’s the thing. The thing is, Witchers aren’t _supposed_ to be affectionate. However Geralt, in his own particular way, undoubtedly is. Unfortunately, the Witcher is truly inept when it comes to handling affection and processing emotion. All of this is to say that Jaskier could have predicted this. “This” being Geralt standing helplessly as he holds the cat currently purring in his arms. 

The cat showed up at the tavern Jaskier had been playing at and Geralt, being the secretly affectionate man that he is, had slipped it some scraps. When it proceeded to climb onto Geralt’s lap he froze in shock and then, after furtively looking around the tavern to see if anyone was watching, Geralt began softly petting it with a finger. 

Of course, when Geralt did his survey of the tavern he didn’t cast his sight toward Jaskier so the bard delightedly observed the entire interaction. By the time he finished singing and sauntered over to Geralt, the cat was curled up with its eyes closed, purring under Geralt’s ministrations. 

“Who’s your friend there Geralt?” Jaskier asked with unrestrained glee. At his approach Geralt froze and scowled, quickly setting aside the cat and standing up. 

“Let’s go bard,” Geralt growled, ignoring the angry yowl in his wake. 

Despite its mistreatment, the cat proceeded to follow Geralt and Jaskier out of the tavern and into the inn, slipping past the innkeeper and up to the room with the two travelling companions. Once they entered, the cat promptly climbed up Geralt and into his arms. 

So now here they are, Geralt standing like a deer facing a wolf and Jaskier in a fit of laughter on the bed. After several moments of joyous chortling, Jaskier calms down enough to look back at Geralt, only to start breaking into giggling again at the sight.

Who knew all it took was a tiny cat to bring a Witcher to his knees? “Geralt, I know this is foreign to you but I believe it wants you to pet it,” Jaskier remarks with a fond smile, finally calmed down enough to speak. 

“Hmm,” Geralt frowns, slowly walking to sit on the bed as he cradles the cat like it’s something precious. Watching the Witcher softly pet the cat as though it would break under his fingers, Jaskier finds his chest grow tight. The dichotomy between the great looming Witcher in all black leather and the tiny gray kitten currently lying in his arms was already too much. Factor in Geralt’s soft expression and quiet words as he caresses the animal and Jaskier would dare anyone to try not falling just a bit in love. 

Of course, Jaskier is much more than just a bit in love with the Witcher, but it’s tender moments like this that reinforces the all-consuming want he feels in his heart. Geralt deserves soft things. And not for the first time, Jaskier wonders what would happen if he shows Geralt how soft he personally can be. Shaking off the thought, Jaskier contents himself with witnessing this rare peaceful moment, composing in his head as he is unwilling to look away long enough to write down the ballad forming in his mind. 

_If you could see what’s before my eyes_  
_The growl and snarl is just a disguise_  
_You would see a soft dear heart_  
_That has been too often torn apart_

Of course, Geralt refuses to keep the cat. “I already have one helpless thing to look after,” he grunts when Jaskier asks the next day. Jaskier is too much of a coward to show how self-sufficient he truly is. But watching Geralt’s hunched back as he walks away from the cat meowing forlornly in his wake...Jaskier hates himself just a bit. 

*******

Yet not as much as Geralt pretends to hate him, Jaskier concludes as he drifts down the mountain months later, Geralt’s shouts echoing in his mind. He’s spent enough time with the Witcher to know that his words came from a place of pain and confusion, so unused to _feeling_ that he resorts to the solace that anger provides. And who better to direct that anger towards than a willing scapegoat who hands his heart on a platter for the Witcher daily? 

So he’ll give Geralt space and they can both lick their wounds. Because even if Jaskier is certain Geralt doesn't truly believe what he says, in the end he did vocalize it and the words stung like a dozen bees. And just like being stung, he'll heal, it’ll just be uncomfortable and a bit miserable for some time. At a loss of what to do next, Jaskier follows his instincts.

After Jaskier knocks on a cottage door in a cozy village on the coast, a severe looking woman with chestnut hair in a bun opens the door, mouth pinched in a frown. As she sets her eyes on Jaskier though her expression melts into one of joy. 

“Julian!” she exclaims, crushing the bard into a hug. “It is so good to see you my boy! Come, come.” 

Pulling the bard in, Jaskier can only stumble through the entryway wearing a sappy grin as he goes. “Marya,” Jaskier sighs. “I have missed you.” 

After tugging the bard into another hug, Marya searches Jaskier’s face before crooning, “What weighs on you my pup?” 

At the question Jaskier sags. He should have known he couldn’t get anything past the old crone. Marya practically raised Jaskier; she was certainly more of a mother than his birth parent was. She has been his confidant, teacher, friend, and warm embrace when he has had none. Marya was the one who encouraged Jaskier to pursue his passion of music when everyone else thought him a fool. She has been the one constant in his life, the one person he hasn’t had to buy with a smile or song or coin. Well, the one person other than Geralt. But that wound was still too fresh. 

Bustling about, Marya puts some tea to boil as she waits for Jaskier to collect his thoughts, ushering the bard into a chair. Allowing himself to be moved like a puppet, knowing the look he’ll get if he doesn’t, Jaskier relaxes with a soft smile as he watches Marya ready some tea and biscuits. 

Finally, the middle aged woman settles across from Jaskier, placing a cup of tea and two biscuits before him. “Eat. Drink. And tell me what ails you child,” she commands with a gentle squeeze of his hand. 

Breathing in the tea, Jaskier smiles and closes his eyes. It transports Jaskier to days and nights spent curled by her side before a fire, listening to her weave tales as she gently stroked his hair. Blinking open his eyes, he looks at the kind, wise eyes gazing back at him patiently. Blowing out a sigh Jaskier steals himself and begins telling the story of the Witcher in Posada. 

By the time Jaskier finishes his tale, the moon is high in the sky and the duo had gravitated from the table to the small fire burning in the corner. Resting by her feet as Marya rocks in her chair and runs her fingers through his hair, Jaskier feels lighter than he has in ages. Between finally unloading his hidden infatuation with his travel companion and being in the presence of the most important person in his life, Jaskier could purr with contentment. 

Silence falls on the pair as the fire crackles beside them. Finally, Marya speaks. “Sounds like you’ve met quite the man Julian.”

“Hmm,” Jaskier responds, leaning his head back into her hand and closing his eyes. 

Chuckling softly Marya tugs teasingly at his hair. “And it sounds like you’ve turned into quite a strong wolf.” 

Huffing out a laugh Jaskier replies, “He’s more wolf than I.” Turning to look at Marya he adds quietly, “I’ve never told him.” 

Widening her eyes in shock Marya leans closer to the bard. “Whyever not child? If anyone were to understand, would it not be he?” 

Resting his head in his surrogate mother’s lap Jaskier moans, “He’s a monster hunter Marya! Why do you think?” 

Sturdy hands that speak of years of labor firmly lift up his head. Stern eyes pierce into his own mournful ones. “Julian Alfred Pankratz,” she says severely. “You are not a monster. And from what you’ve told me of this Witcher fellow, he wouldn’t see you as one either.” Eyes sparkling with mischief she adds, “In fact, it seems like he could use someone like you.” 

Frowning in confusion, Jaskier tilts his head. “What do you mean Mar?” 

Grinning with childlike glee Marya says, “Well, your Witcher seems to like cuddling with fluffy things. And he clearly enjoys talking to them.”

Recalling the stories he told of Roach and the stray cats and dogs Geralt has encountered, Jaskier eyes widen, a slow smile starting to cross his face. “You wicked, clever woman.” 

Cackling Marya winks, cuffing Jaskier under the chin. “And don’t you forget it!” Sobering, Marya clutches Jaskier’s face between her hands. “Your Witcher snaps like an injured wolf. But he clearly loves you like one of his pack. Perhaps he needs time to realize that.” 

Standing up and dusting off her apron, Marya begins puttering around her cottage. “Now, you will rest here and then keep your beautiful lute safe with me. I will look after it, my love.” 

Mind reeling, Jaskier leans back on his heels. He knows that Geralt cares for him; he can practically smell the love on him. Jaskier has just been patiently waiting for the Witcher to catch up and realize it himself. Maybe this separation will do just that. Jaskier’s heart already aches from being apart from him; perhaps this is the perfect middle ground. Contemplating Marya’s insinuations, cautious hope begins to bloom inside Jaskier’s chest. It may just work. 

The next day, Marya lays a gentle kiss on a russet colored wolf who stands at her waist. “Be safe. Be smart. And give that Witcher a little nip in the butt for me.” When the wolf sneezes in response Marya chuckles. “Fine! I’ll just do it myself when I meet him.” With a happy whine, the wolf rubs his head against Marya’s hand before jumping up to lick her face, racing away as the woman chases after him in joyful outrage. Time to find his Witcher. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt meets a new travel companion. Roach surprisingly approves.

Jaskier supposes he shouldn’t be surprised Geralt never caught on. Sure, Jaskier likes his meat bloodier than the average human, his teeth may seem a bit sharper when angry, he finds sincere pleasure in hunting, and he’s definitely launched savagely at a great many people who insult or threaten Geralt. But his dear Witcher is also the densest creature alive so he can’t blame him for not putting the pieces together. And Marya has trained him to be as inconspicuous as possible. 

But that’s thrown out the window now. Swallowing down his lingering trepidation, Jaskier’s tail wags as Geralt’s scent grows stronger. There’s no harm in Jaskier creeping up to Geralt in his shifter form. The Witcher has proved himself to have a bleeding heart when it comes to fluffy animals and as much as the man hurt Jaskier, he knows Geralt lashed out like any injured animal would. And just like any wolf, Geralt needs a pack, even if he denies it. 

When he arrives at the campsite, Jaskier releases a low whine, lowering his ears and tail in a show of peace. Geralt whirls around to face him, sword brandished and golden eyes glinting. Gods, even when he is threatening Jaskier’s life he is still beautiful. 

Lowering himself on the ground, Jaskier rolls upon his back and lolls out his tongue. He watches as Geralt’s expression cycles from determination to confusion to a small frown. “Idiot wolf,” Geralt murmurs darkly. “Can’t you see you’re in the den of a monster?” 

Resheathing his sword, Geralt plops back down on the ground with a sigh, returning to the rabbit he is currently eating. It has only been a month or so since Jaskier last saw him but a stranger wouldn’t know that. Geralt’s hair is a mess of knots while his clothes are coated in a mixture of blood and mud. Shoulders hunched and eyes haunted, he looked like a hunted man. 

Whining again, Jaskier crawls his way towards Geralt before slowly resting his head on his lap. Jolting with surprise, Geralt stares at Jaskier with a curious tilt of his head while the wolf stares patiently back. They remain like that for several long moments before Geralt tentatively brings a battle-worn hand to Jaskier’s coat. 

Gently running his hands through Jaskier’s fur Geralt whispers, “Eyes as blue as the sea. Just like him.” And then, to Jaskier’s alarm, Geralt drops his head into his hands with a tortured moan. Releasing a worried whine, Jaskier noses his way through Geralt’s hands to softly lick the sorrow off his face. 

Chuckling a moment later Geralt says fondly, “You’re just as brazen as him, little wolf.” Rubbing his head in the crook of Geralt’s neck, Jaskier breathes in that enchanting scent of cedar and earth that is all Geralt. Gods how he missed that. “If you’re smelling me before you try eating me, I have some bad news for you wolf,” Geralt says dryly. 

Growling softly, Jaskier reluctantly removes his snout from Geralt’s neck and rests his head back on the Witcher’s lap. “You know I’ll have to lay down and sleep at some point?” Geralt inquires. When Jaskier doesn’t respond Geralt sighs. Ripping a piece of rabbit, he hands it to Jaskier who eagerly laps it up before licking Geralt’s face again. Geralt only stares back with an unreadable expression. “What are you?” Geralt breathes. But Jaskier doesn’t reply, already half asleep surrounded by the scent of home. 

When Jaskier wakes up the next morning he finds Geralt in the same position as the night before, fingers buried in his fur. _Seems like he was reluctant to let go of my fur_ Jaskier thinks smugly before stretching and releasing a wide yawn. 

“Gods little wolf, your maw could fit my entire hand,” Geralt rumbles. “Perhaps ‘little’ is the wrong word.” At Jaskier grumble Geralt chuckles, a sight as magical and rare as a dragon. “Alright, it’ll stay.” 

As Geralt packs up his camp he shoots a curious glance between Roach and Jaskier. “Roach is usually skittish around wolves,” Geralt mutters to himself. Trotting up to the horse, Jaskier gives her a wolfy grin. Tossing her head in the horse equivalent of an eye roll, Roach leans down to nudge affectionately at Jaskier. Wagging his tail, Jaskier turns to see Geralt gaping at the two animals. “What the fuck,” he breathes faintly. 

Sneezing with amusement, Jaskier jogs up to Geralt and nuzzles his leg before looking up at him expectantly. Staring down at the wolf silently for a few moments Geralt seems to finally come to a decision. “You stick around, you gotta pull your weight and do some hunting,” he says gruffly. With a bark, Jaskier points his nose to the sky before gleefully taking off on a hunt. 

When Jaskier returns after 10 minutes dragging a deer corpse, Geralt actually drops his sword. “You can understand me?” he asks incredulously. When Jaskier nods, Geralt tilts his head. “Curse?” Shaking his head, Jaskier makes his way further in the camp, dropping the corpse by Geralt’s feet and plopping down beside him. 

Those golden eyes are giving him an assessing look while Jaskier daintily licks his paw. “Are you human?” _Eh, depends on your definition of human,_ Jaskier thinks to himself ruefully. When Jaskier simply tilts his head in response, Geralt shrugs. “Thanks for the meal,” he mumbles. 

And with that, Geralt begins to skin and cook the deer while Jaskier happily gnaws on a leg. An hour later, bellies full and camp cleared, a Witcher, a horse, and a shifter make their way through the woods. Jaskier is sure there is a joke in there somewhere. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt gets used to his new traveling companion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for some time in Geralt's POV!

Geralt’s mind is racing and his rampant emotions aren’t helping. He had immediately regretted the words he shouted at Jaskier on that mountain but by the time the cloud of his grief and despair dissipated slightly, it was too late. It had been a month or so since then and he had given up trying to find him. Clearly the bard didn’t want to be found, and who can blame him? So there goes the one burst of sunshine in Geralt’s life. Snuffed out from one impulsive act of stupidity. 

Geralt had resigned himself to a return of his isolated existence when a massive wolf sauntered into his campsite. Geralt knew immediately that there was something too discerning in those blue eyes. He had to push away the tangle of emotions when a part of him couldn’t help noting how similar those eyes are to another pair on a certain bard. 

So now apparently he has some kind of magical wolf as a companion. Since that’s not on the top 5 list of strangest things to happen to him, Geralt decides to just roll with it. _Besides,_ a small part of himself he tries to smother says. _It will be nice to have something to cuddle._

Geralt isn’t a talker. He’s a man of action. What’s that cliche? Actions speak louder than words? Yeah, that. Besides, when Geralt speaks he often finds his foot in his mouth. (For recent examples see: demanding the law of surprise at a royal banquet and laying the blame of all his problems on his only friend.) So Geralt is a man of few words. Which makes what he keeps finding himself doing to be quite strange. 

“What do you think about Dandelion? You seem to like rolling in them enough,” he snorts as he watched the giant wolf squirm in a bed of flowers. 

*******

“The problem with Gwent is it’s all down to the cards. How am I expected to win if they have a better deck? “ he exclaims as Dandelion huffs beside him with what he can tell is amusement. 

*******

”Those bandits weren’t even holding their weapons right. They should be embarrassed,” Geralt murmurs as he wraps the injured wolf in salve and bandages. Catching the wolf’s eyes he adds with a tremor, “Don’t jump in front of me again. I’m starting to get used to your irritating presence.” 

*******

“I miss him,” Geralt whispers as he stares at the stars with Dandelion resting on his lap. Scratching down the back of his neck at what Geralt has learned is the wolf’s favorite spot over the months in his company, he sighs. Rubbing his face wearily he remarks bitterly, “That’s why I’m better off alone. Can’t hurt people that way. Can’t get hurt that way.” 

Letting out a low whine, Dandelion stretches up so he can nuzzle Geralt’s face and snuffle at his neck. Breathing in the scent of woods and flowers, Geralt relaxes minutely. He’s realized that the wolf always does this when he thinks Geralt needs comfort. It should frighten Geralt how intelligent and attuned to him the wolf seems to be but all he does is bury his face in the fur, gripping the wolf tightly with both hands. 

“He always smelled like pine and honey. And I’m surrounded by pine trees but it’s not the same. And I don’t want to buy myself honey because it’ll only remind me of him more. Gods be damned, why the fuck do I feel like this?!” 

Dragging himself away from the wolf, Geralt launches himself to his feet, tearing at his hair with a hunted expression. Clenching his chest like he’s going to rip out his heart he cries, “Witchers aren’t supposed to have emotions. And I don’t want to feel! Not when my heart feels like it’s being torn apart by a bloody kikimore!” 

Collapsing to the ground, Geralt buries his face into his hands once again, trying desperately to gather the scattered pieces of his heart. Suddenly, soft hands touch his arm, making Geralt jolt in surprise and grip it, ready to attack. When he opens his eyes to face his assailant though, all he sees is Jaskier, sans lute, sans, doublet, sans, well, anything. 

Frozen, Geralt simply stares at the bard, uncomprehending. Biting his lip Jaskier rasps, “Could I have my hand back please?” 

Releasing Jaskier’s hand, Geralt continues to stare at him, touching the bard’s face for confirmation that he's real. “You’re-but-how?” A smile as hopeful as the sun shining through clouds after rain spreads across the bard’s face. Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly Jaskier responds, “I may not be as human as I made out to be.” 

With those words, Geralt snaps out of his haze and turns to look for Dandelion. When no wolf appears, the reality sinks in. Returning his gaze to Jaskier, Geralt concludes numbly, “You’re a shifter.”

“Surprise?” Jaskier winces, dramatically throwing open his arms. 

Geralt pulls away, carefully shuttering his expression. A number of questions race through his mind and as he tried to collect his thoughts Geralt’s fingers clench into fists spasmodically. Finally he cobbles together some words. “Why did you return to me in your shifted form?” he demands. 

A flash of guilt and hurt crosses Jaskier’s face before they are gone. Looking away, Jaskier taps his fingers on his knee before replying quietly, “You shouldn’t be without a pack. And you deserve to hold someone soft. But I knew you needed space from me.” 

Geralt reels at those words. How many times has he longed to pet a stray cat or dog he passes in the streets? The amount of opportunities he has had to do so are few and far between. Each time has been a shock to his system. Such soft, delicate things allowing him to pet them without fear...it is the biggest blessing. And Jaskier noticed.

Then Geralt thinks back on the weeks with Dandelion, how at peace he would feel every time that comforting weight would lay upon him, every time he could run his hands through that soft fur. He should be ashamed of his weakness. But before he can sink further into self-loathing a familiar hand grasps his own. 

“I’m sorry if I crossed a line. I can leave if you like. I just couldn’t stand to watch you in so much pain when I could do something about it,” Jaskier explains softly. 

“And what about your pain?” Geralt rasps. Turning to look in those eyes-and yes he knew they were too familiar-Geralt takes a deep breath. “I am sorry for the words I spoke on the mountain. I was angry and unfairly took it out on you. I don't need space from you.” 

Nodding his head, Jaskier murmurs, “I accept your apology.” Could it be that simple? A gentle smile playing on his lips Jaskier adds, “And anytime you would like something soft-” and before Geralt’s eyes, the human bard morphs and shifts back into Dandelion. With a bark, the wolf thumps onto the ground, resting his head upon Geralt’s lap. 

“Hmm,” Geralt says, a smile dancing on his lips. “You’re certainly quieter like this.” Laughing as the shifter snaps playfully at Geralt’s fingers in response, Geralt begins petting him slowly in apology. 

Later, as they lay curled up on Geralt’s bedroll, Jaskier still shifted as a cuddly beast, Geralt whispers, “Thank you for coming back.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier realizes that his shifter form comes in handy when avoiding certain conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The moment you've all been waiting for...

Things were good. Geralt apologized, Jaskier was back to traveling with Geralt, Geralt continues to pet Jaskier whenever he’s shifted, and Jaskier has been shamelessly taking advantage of that final fact. Yep, things were good. It’s just. Well. Here’s the thing. 

Jaskier is still in love with Geralt. And by all intents and purposes? Geralt is in love with Jaskier. But Geralt won’t. Bloody. Admit it. And if his performance before Jaskier revealed himself was any indication, it’s because the Witcher is so confused by his own emotions he doesn’t even know what he feels. So Jaskier has been trying to help him along by modeling what _feeling_ feels like. 

“Oh Geralt, I’m so happy I want to grin!” 

*******

“Oh Geralt, they make me so mad it is like my blood is boiling.”

*******

“Geralt, I’m so sad I feel like there is a weight on my shoulders.” 

*******

The Witcher never really responds or reacts to these comments. Jaskier likes to believe it’s because he’s thinking about what Jaskier says and comparing it to his own experiences. But he’s probably just tuning Jaskier out. There’s really only one emotion Jaskier hasn’t covered yet. 

“Geralt, what you think it feels like to be in love?” Jaskier blurts out one night, staring at the moon. 

Humming, Geralt remarks, “Don’t know. Never been. Even with Yennefer that wasn’t actually real.” 

Turning so that he’s facing the Witcher, Jaskier pouts. “But then how could you ever know if you were in love or not?” 

Frowning, Geralt grumbles stubbornly, “I would know.”

“Hmm,” Jaskier says in an imitation of the Witcher. “Shall I describe what it feels to love?” 

When Geralt doesn’t respond, Jaskier takes that as the permission it probably is. Sighing, Jaskier closes his eyes. “Love is when you find your thoughts consumed by the other person, night and day. Love is when you will follow them through mud and blood and monsters just to stay by their side. Love is when your heart feels torn in two when you are apart. 

"Love is that burning fire in your soul that tells you you would do anything to keep them safe, even if you are harmed in their stead. Love is longing to touch and hold them for as long as you can. Love is wanting to sing their praises for all the world to hear. Love is that bubble of warmth in your chest every time you see or think of them. And love is that gaping hole in your heart when they toss you away,” he finishes with a crack of his voice. 

The silence that follows is so tense Jaskier fears that if he breathes it will snap. And he has no idea what would happen then. So he allows the silence to fester, heart clenching as he wonders if he revealed too much, if this was a mistake. When a rough hand touches Jaskier’s cheek he realizes that he had been crying. 

Blinking his eyes open he gazes into curious eyes. “Jaskier,” Geralt rumbles, golden eyes piercing him. “Who do you love?” 

Frozen in panic, Jaskier does the only thing he can think of. He shifts. Flailing at the change of shape in his companion, Geralt scrambles to his feet as the wolf starts to slink away. “Oh no you don’t little wolf,” Geralt growls, giving chase. Panic turning into joy, Jaskier yips before racing through the trees, heart lifting as he hears the Witcher follow in his path. 

Weaving through trees and leaping over rocks, Jaskier howls at the moon with elation, wild from the hunt. He is that more disoriented then, when several minutes later, a heavy body crashes into him, sending them both flying. Snarling, Jaskier goes to attack the figure just to realize it is Geralt. 

Both of them panting, they simply stare at each other for a long moment, Geralt pressing the wolf into the ground. Huffing, Geralt finally growls, “Who?” Blue eyes piercing golden, Jaskier responds in the only way he knows how. Folding back his ears, he bares his neck to the Witcher, the greatest act of submission a wolf could make. 

Breath catches in Geralt’s throat as he stares down at the shifter. “Jaskier, I-” Shaking his head in frustration he tries again. “Please-can you shift back?” 

Sighing and releasing a meek whine, Jaskier slowly shifts until he’s fully human, blushing as he realizes the compromising position he finds himself in. Registering it at the same time, Geralt scrambles off of the bard, glancing down at his nude form before quickly pulling his gaze back to Jaskier’s face. 

Wrapping his arms around his knees, Jaskier watches Geralt silently. “You didn't answer my question truthfully,” Jaskier murmurs. At Geralt’s questioning glance Jaskier scowls, “I’ll answer your question once you have answered mine. “What does it feel like to love?” 

Geralt gulps at the bard’s challenging look, chin jutted out stubbornly. Jaskier watches as the Witcher has an internal battle with himself. Perhaps it’s cruel of Jaskier to demand this of Geralt; he knows words are hard for the Witcher. But gods, he’s so tired of waiting. And if he has to confess so does the Witcher, even as he claims not to know what it is to love. 

Geralt opens and shuts his mouth several times before blowing out a heavy sigh. “It’s listening to them talk even if what they talk about is nothing,” he starts slowly, studying the ground. “It’s wanting them by your side even if you don’t know why. It’s feeling at peace every time they play music or sing." Now that he's started, the words flow out like they have a mind of their own, picking up speed as he goes. "It’s knowing you would die before allowing them to be killed. It’s feeling like you’ve been stabbed when you see that you hurt them. It’s realizing how quiet the Path is when they’re not beside you.” 

With each addition, Jaskier feels the warmth in his chest grow until he fears his heart will burst. He never expected so many words out of his white wolf and pride and love are warring for dominance in his chest. “I love _you_ Geralt,” Jaskier says firmly, grasping a hand boldly. Surprised golden eyes jerk up to look at him in wonderment.

“Truly? After all I’ve said and done?” 

Rolling his eyes, Jaskier smiles at him fondly. “It’ll take more than words from an injured wolf to scare me away.” 

Face crumpling with relief, Geralt falls into Jaskier’s arms, scenting his neck greedily. “Hey, that’s my thing!” Jaskier laughs. 

“Hmm. Missed your scent when you were gone,” Geralt rumbles. "It's different when you're a wolf. Still nice though." Before Jaskier can come up with a witty retort he is distracted by surprisingly soft lips claiming his own. Whimpering, Jaskier melts into the embrace, eagerly returning the kiss. Running his tongue along Geralt’s lips, he demands entry, desperate to know the Witcher deeper. 

As they continue to kiss Jaskier has the sudden realization that he is still quite naked. Breathing heavily Jaskier states firmly, “You will not be taking me on this dirty forest floor.” 

Nuzzling Jaskier Geralt grunts with amusement, “Who knew wolves were so particular.” Biting Geralt’s ear in retaliation, Jaskier smirks at Geralt’s warning rumble before shifting back and taking off. Growling, Geralt scrambles to his feet and races after him once again, smiling as he does. Jaskier was worth the chase.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt meets Marya. It goes as well as it could have.

Shifting on his feet back and forth, Jaskier is fidgeting with his hands nervously before they are grasped by a hand that dwarfs his own. “Relax,” Geralt says, with a discreet kiss to Jaskier’s neck. He’s never seen his little wolf so nervous, not even when playing for his life when they got caught up with some fae a couple years back. 

Turning to Geralt Jaskier says with panicked eyes, “Remember what I said. Let her boss you around, don’t believe any story she tells about me, give more than one word answers and-” 

“-and if she tries to bite my arse don’t question it,” Geralt finishes. Gripping the bard’s shoulders steadily, Geralt shoots him a reassuring smile. “I know, I promise I’ll be good.” 

Jaskier goes to say something else when an oddly accented voice from inside the modest cottage says, “Julian, are you going to make me wait all day to meet you Witcher friend or will you get that scrawny arse in here already?” 

“My arse is not scrawny!” Jaskier protests. Turning to Geralt Jaskier pleads, “My arse isn’t scrawny right Geralt?” 

“Hmm, “ Geralt replies, squeezing said arse with a smirk. He delights in the affronted look he gets in response. 

“No! What did I say about one word answers! Humming counts as one word answers!” Jaskier lectures with exasperation, only cut off by the door being impatiently flung open. 

“I thought I taught you better manners than this my pup,” the woman says, hands on her hips and frowning with disapproval. Slumping his shoulders Jaskier whines, “Mar-mar, I needed to make sure Geralt knew the rules.” 

Rolling her eyes, Marya replies, “He could write the rulebook himself at this point, no doubt. Get in here child.” 

As Geralt follows Jaskier, he feels a whip on his arse. Turning, he simply raises an eyebrow at the woman innocently drying a mug with a seemingly innocuous towel. “No need to block the door boy, you’ll let the cold in,” she remarks idly before stomping past the bemused Witcher. Boy? He can’t recall the last time anyone called him that. 

Huffing with amusement, Geralt makes his way through the small cottage until he plops down beside Jaskier by a blazing fire. Three hot mugs of tea are passed around along with a plate of fresh biscuits and soon Geralt finds himself facing a scrutinizing glare. Swallowing, Geralt wonders why he feels more nervous now than he does when facing an angry griffin. _Probably because you don’t need to use your words then_ a part of him that sounds disturbingly like Jaskier says. 

A tense silence stands between the three of them until finally Marya speaks. “Did you apologize?” Immediately, Geralt nods, though part of him is still in shock that Jaskier forgave him so easily. He doesn’t blame Marya for being suspicious of him though. Geralt knows that Jaskier has told this woman everything about them so he’s prepared for her questions at least. 

“Have you slept with him yet?” Choking on his sip of tea Geralt coughs until he is red in the face. Apparently he wasn’t as prepared as he thought. 

“Marya! You can’t break him! I just got him!” Jaskier whines, thumping him hard on the back. And gods, the night Geralt realized that Jaskier was a lot stronger than he let on was a very pleasant one indeed. 

Blinking tears out of his eyes he watches the woman cackle with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. Ah, okay. Jaskier’s personality is making a lot more sense now. Finally catching his breath Geralt gasps desperately, “Why must you know that?” 

Arching an elegant brow she replies, “Because if you’re not good in bed Jaskier will be one miserable wolf.” 

Moaning like a wounded animal, Jaskier sinks against Geralt until he is facing the Witcher’s chest. “Kill me now please Geralt,” he begs. 

“Only if you’ll do the same to me,” he replies through gritted teeth. 

Giggling girlishly, Marya flaps her hands and shakes her head with amusement. “Alright, alright, I’m done torturing you. Forgive an old woman her pleasures.” 

Lifting his head to face her but remaining tucked beside Geralt, Jaskier glares at his surrogate mother. “You are a very malevolent woman,” he informs her solemnly, snuggling into the protective arm that’s wrapped around him. 

“And yet you can’t help but love me,” she retorts with a smirk. 

“No, I’m just here for your tea and biscuits,” Jaskier mutters, yelping at the towel that flicks his ear. 

Turning to Geralt, Marya says, “Just for that I’m going to tell you the story of when Julian here tried writing his first song.” Ignoring Jaskier’s desperate protests, Geralt relaxes beside his bard. This could be an entertaining night. 

*******

After hours have passed and Jaskier has shifted to his wolf form and curled up by the fire to sleep, Geralt and Marya watch him in silence. “Since he’s revealed himself to me he spends half his time like that,” Geralt remarks. 

Humming, Marya nods. “That’s no surprise. It’s painful staying in only the human form for too long.” Freezing, Geralt stares at her in horror. He thinks back to the countless hours, days, months, years that they had spent practically inside each other’s pockets. Jaskier would hardly have had time to shift. 

Sending Geralt a sympathetic smile, Marya shrugs. “‘Tis what we do for love and in fear.” 

Frowning, Geralt runs a hand through the downy fur, melting at the happy snuffle he gets in response. “I never meant to hurt him,” he murmurs. 

“And yet you did.” Stifling a flinch, Geralt turns to look at the woman. Those blue-gray eyes that had been sparkling with humor and joy all night have turned flinty and fierce. “Hurt him again and you’ll get far more than a little tap on the arse boy,” she warns, hints of fangs slipping out of her mouth as she speaks. 

Of course. No wonder she raised Jaskier. “You’re his mother,” he states. 

Flinching, Marya turns away, darkened memories clouding her face. A heavy silence falls over the room. “His father loved to fall into foolish women’s beds, even after he married," she finally murmurs. "And when his wife and him failed to conceive, they figured that a child of half a noble birth would be good enough.” 

A bitter smile crosses her face, eyes distant as she adds, “Of course, they never would have chosen me if they knew what I was.” Looking at the Witcher she continues with a haunted expression, “There would have been an uproar if people knew what he was. They would have stoned him to death. Me along with him.” 

Standing up in a burst of energy, the shifter paces the room, confessing a history she has kept hidden for decades. “So I convinced them to allow me to be his nanny, on the promise of death if I ever revealed who I was to him. I guided him through his shifts, taught him control, taught him to hide what he was.” Wrapping her arms protectively around herself, she stares broodingly into the fire. “I kept him safe.”

Silence falls between the pair as Geralt digests the information. This woman means everything to Jaskier; no wonder he was so nervous for Geralt to meet her. But something doesn't quite fit. “He still doesn’t know. Why?” 

Mournful eyes rest upon the wolf. “All his life he thought he needed to pay for friendship, to prove himself somehow to paramours. I thought that perhaps, if he saw that I loved him for who he is, not because he pays me or writes me a pretty song, and not because he is my blood...perhaps he would believe himself to be loveable.” 

“Hmm,” is all Geralt can say, heart breaking for his wolf. A soft smile crosses his face as he realizes that he just broke one of Jaskier’s rules. 

Watching Geralt gaze at the shifter Marya says frankly, “You love him.” 

Gathering his thoughts Geralt finally replies, “Didn’t know I could until I met him.” Taking a breath he adds, “Didn’t know I was able to be loved until we spoke.” 

Humming, Marya returns to her chair and begins rocking in it. “Our little bard is generous with his love.” 

Grunting in affirmation Geralt states, “I don’t take that lightly.” 

Nodding, Marya replies, “See that you don’t.” Standing up after several minutes of contented silence, Marya cracks her back with a satisfied sigh. “Well, time for this old lady to go to bed.”

Shaking his head, Geralt says, “Old? You look no older than 30.” 

Turning with a smirk, Marya replies with a wink, “And I’ll continue to look so for at least another century.” 

As she walks away, her words slowly sink in. If she has a longer lifespan then...Turning to look at Jaskier Geralt realizes that he doesn’t know how long they have known each other. Sliding toward the shifter, Geralt lifts the heavy head so it lays on his stomach like usual. 

Sleep-fogged eyes blink up at him from the movement. “Jaskier, how long have we known each other?” Growling, Jaskier shifts until he is fully human. 

“At least 10 years,” he yawns, collapsing back onto Geralt’s chest. “Why?” 

Gazing up at Jaskier, Geralt grins like a fool. He doesn’t look a day older than when they first met. How he missed that is beyond him. “Don’t worry my wolf,” Jaskier says, patting Geralt’s chest sleepily, somehow reading his mind. “I know you’re dense as a giant oak and you wouldn’t notice all the signs.” 

Running his fingers through Jaskier’s hair, Geralt sighs. “I’m sorry I took so long.” 

Humming, Jaskier replies, “That’s okay, we know I’m the faster one anyway.” 

Rumbling with laughter Geralt says, “Curious. I remember outrunning you last time we raced.” 

A sleepy smile spreads across his wolf’s face. “That’s just ‘cause I let you win.” 

But before Geralt can protest, Jaskier shifts back into his wolf form. Automatically resuming petting the great wolf Geralt growls, “You can’t do that every time you want to win an argument.” 

A giant tongue licks across Geralt’s face in response, leaving him sputtering. Glaring at the wolfy grin above him Geralt lifts up his hands. “See if I’ll pet you if you’re being a brat.” When all the shifter does is stare at him patiently in response, Geralt curses under his breath before returning to his strokes. What can he say? He likes soft things. And his bard is the softest of them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment or kudos if you feel inclined! All mistakes are my own

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the reading! All the other chapters are posted now.


End file.
